


It's not science, it's magic

by expecto_cosmos



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I just want them to be happy, angst angst and more angst, post 4x21
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-30 07:21:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10871889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/expecto_cosmos/pseuds/expecto_cosmos
Summary: Jemma and Fitz talk - about love, memories, and making new ones. Begins immediately post 4x21 hug scene.





	It's not science, it's magic

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr at expecto-cosmos!

It isn't until his sobs begin to cease and the tremors racking his body become shivers that Jemma realizes Fitz is mumbling something and trying to break free of her grip. 

 

"Fitz," she gasps, refusing, shuffling even closer to him along the bench. "What is it?"

 

He turns his face from her again, but this time she makes it out: "How can you touch me?"

 

It's the same sentiment he expressed to AIDA - Ophelia - IT - earlier, while Jemma watched. Her heart breaks for him just as much hearing it for the second time. 

 

"Fitz," she says again, seemingly unable to say much else. Still trembling with her tears, she tentatively lifts her right hand, still fisted into his collar, and brings it around to his left cheek, covered with his own tears. With his face angled away, she knows Fitz has a clear view of her intentions, and it's all Jemma can do not to scream with relief when he doesn't try to fight her. She gently turns his face towards her, trying not to feel disappointed when he still won't meet her eyes. 

 

"How-" Fitz starts, and Jemma can feel his face begin to crumple again. Throwing caution to the wind, she kneels in front of him, holding onto his arms gently. He shrinks into himself even further, looking only at the floor between them. But he doesn't break away. 

 

"Like this," Jemma says firmly, despite her quavering voice. "I can touch you like this, and hold you like this, and _love_ you like this. Like I always have. Like I always will. Fitz, the Doctor wasn't you. This is you. My love will never fade either."

 

"You were listening," Fitz says, but doesn't sound surprised. 

 

"Yes, Fitz." Jemma beams despite herself, and despite the fact that he refuses to look at it. "I love you."

 

Fitz doesn't move. 

 

"I love you," Jemma repeats, moving her hands from his arms to his thighs and leaning ever so slightly forward into his body. "I love you. I love you. I love you and you're real and you came back to me and we'll fix this. Together."

 

"I killed Agnes." His voice is stronger than it has been. 

 

Jemma doesn't budge. "Yes."

 

"In front of you."

 

"Yes."

 

"I had Daisy tortured."

 

"Yes."

 

"I shot you."

 

"Yes, but that was the Doctor, Fitz, all of it. Not you."

 

"It _was_ me."

 

"Fitz, what did you just tell AIDA? That she did a good thing by saving Mack. You were right. But that doesn't make her a good-" Jemma nearly chokes on the next word. "-Person."

 

She feels Fitz flinch, but pushes on. 

 

"You may not believe that the Doctor wasn't you, or that what you did wasn't your choice. But if doing a good thing doesn't make her good, then doing a bad thing doesn't make you bad either."

 

There is another flicker of movement from Fitz, and Jemma's heart leaps, hoping for his touch, for his voice, for his eyes to meet hers. 

 

"We're more than our programming," he whispers, eyes still fixed on the floor. As Jemma watches, he closes them and takes a deep, rattling breath, and then another, and then another...

 

Jemma sits with him as he controls his breathing, as he - hopefully - begins to return to himself. Her hands trace gentle patterns on his thighs, his knees, his calves, his ankles, and he finally relaxes, bit by bit, under her touch. 

 

But he still won't look at her. 

 

"She made herself into you," Fitz says, and it feels like another confession. "Every moment we had, from the first day at of class at Academy onward. She stole all of our memories."

 

He falls silent again, seemingly exhausted by those three sentences. 

 

Jemma gazes at him, aching to brush his hair from his forehead, to trace his lips with her thumb, to feel his heart beating. But instead, as much as it pains her, she removes her hands altogether, leaning back on her heels. 

 

"Fitz," she says again, because she can't help but say her favorite word. "'Everyone here is staring at us. I'm glad I'm not the only young one, or I'd feel like a leper.'"

 

His only response is a thick gulp, and Jemma can't help but feel a bubble of hurt rise in her. He doesn't remember. 

 

"The first thing you said to me, the first day at Academy," Fitz mutters. 

 

Jemma sighs with painful relief. "The first day of _everything_. She didn't steal our memories, Fitz. They're all still there, and they're all still ours. And best of all, she can't steal the ones we still have yet to make. Together."

 

Jemma knows she should stop talking, but Fitz's continued lack of eye contact is too much for her to bear. 

 

"She had to remove any trace of me in order to have any sort of power over you. We _are_ more than our programming. More than hers, more than anyone's. Love can beat a few lines of code. Ours, at least."

 

Jemma chuckles mirthlessly, looking at the floor. "Can't help but feel a little puffed up at that, really." 

 

When she looks up, she doesn't even bother to stifle her gasp. 

 

Fitz is looking back at her, blue eyes watery but blazing, fixed on hers like a lifeline. It pulls her closer, their foreheads lightly meeting in the middle, barely touching, eyes crossing as they both refuse to break that magic hold. 

 

There is so much more to say - lifetimes worth of tears and confessions and forgiveness that she will always, always give and hopes one day he will willingly accept. But for now, they could wait.


End file.
